Black Thumbnail
by Betsy86
Summary: If she was her mother's daughter, why wouldn't he be his father's son? Future Lit. Oneshot.


**I don't own the Gilmores. Or Jess. I wish!**

* * *

Black Thumbnail

"Jess?"

Rory Gilmore enters her apartment and unceremoniously drops her briefcase at her feet.

It has been one of _those_ days. Where everything goes wrong.

The copier broke just as she hit 'start'.

The new intern didn't look while she was walking and knocked a cup of cold coffee down her white shirt, forcing Rory to wear an old Blondie t-shirt she had in her office.

Her editor told her piece was _too_ emotional. Typical man. Everything was emotional these days. Having correct change in her purse this morning for her bagel had almost reduced her to tears.

"Jess?" She calls out again, toeing off her shoes, and hanging her trench coat up on the coat rack. "Where's your daddy?" She muses, rubbing her hand over her six month pregnant belly.

She pushes open the door to the kitchen, but it was empty. Same with the bedroom and bathroom.

Returning to the living room she glances to side table, the phone table and the coffee table. No note. He always leaves a note. Even if it was say he had gone for dinner.

Maybe he hadn't got back from work yet. She vaguely recalls him stressing about something. Maybe it was work. She has to start paying attention, and not allow her thoughts to stray to cute baby boys with big brown eyes and mops of uncontrollable curls.

She spots a bar of chocolate on the coffee table. It wasn't there when she left for work, so Jess must have been home at some point. Maybe this was his note. She unwraps the chocolate and takes a bite.

It doesn't taste quite right. Like he bought it a few weeks ago, and had forgotten about it, so it had simply resided in his coat pocket.

She rolls her head back and lets out a contented sigh when she hears the small _crack._

She knows what she needs - coffee.

But she has promised Jess that she won't have any caffeine until the baby arrives.

Of course she's already broken it. Two days after making it.

But the bet they made is still going strong. She couldn't quit cold turkey, so he gave her some incentive. Three months on the 3am shift. And Rory Gilmore has never lost a bet.

She breaks off another piece of chocolate and pops it in her mouth, making a face as she remembers the stale taste it has.

A bath, she thinks. If she can't have coffee, she should try and relax in another way.

She makes her way to the bathroom, and runs the water. Hot. She adds some bubbles before retreating to their bedroom and stripping from her work clothes and pulling on a purple robe. She throws her skirt and Blondie shirt into the hamper and locates a headband from her dresser, pushing her hair from her face.

She relaxes into the tub, picking up a gossip magazine, idly flicking through it.

The bubble bath isn't as relaxing as the last one she took. Jess had drawn it for her. Right after a disastrous Friday Night Dinner, when they had told the Grandparents she was pregnant.

Of course Emily hit the roof. Rory had no ring on her finger, but she is her mother's daughter, and the reason to get married is not because you're having a baby.

She sits upright, one thought, and one thought alone flashing through her mind. 'He's his father's son'.

There was no note. He _always_ left a note. Even if he was going to put the garbage out before she got home, he left a note.

The only time he didn't leave a note, was when he was eighteen and he travelled cross country to see his father. A father that left.

If she was her mother, _why_ wouldn't he be his father?

Suddenly she can't remember if she saw his book on the nightstand, or his laptop on the desk.

The chocolate was old, because he found it in a coat he hasn't worn, the black jacket, she thinks, brought out of the wardrobe to be packed.

Of course he's bolted. Why would he _stay_?

He's been stressed, and she couldn't even listen long enough to find out why.

She stands up and throws her robe over her shoulders, the magazine floats, forgotten, along the surface of the water.

In the bedroom, she pulls open his top drawer, and lets out a strangled sob.

"Rory? You home?"

The drawer is filled his socks, and as she pulls open the closet door, his clothes are hanging up like they were this morning.

Black jacket included.

"Rory?"

She turns and he is standing in the doorway, and she spots his book, 1984, on the nightstand, and his laptop plugged in on the desk.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He crosses the room in three easy strides and grabs her wrists. "Rory, what happened?"

She shakes her head, and sobs, tears rolling down her cheeks and neck.

He pulls her into a hug and moves to seat them on the bed. Rubbing soft circles on her back, he tries to calm her. "What happened?"

"You didn't leave a note?"

He lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss to her temple. He did, he tells her, on the coffee pot.

She looks up at him, and then takes off towards the kitchen.

She spots the note immediately. A neon pink, heart shaped post it.

'No coffee! Gone for Chinese. Chocolate on coffee table might be old, found it in desk. J x'

"Oh God." She whispers and presses the note to her chest.

"Rory, why are you upset?" He wraps his arms around her waist from behind, and she leans back into his embrace.

"I thought you had left." She whispers.

He turns her in his arms and tell her he's not going anywhere. Ever.

And she knows it to be a perfect truth.

He could never fake sincerity with his eyes.

So she clings to him. And cries. And whispers apologies.

And he lets her.

They'll blame hormones.

Neither will mention her inability to completely trust him.

She is expecting a 'Christoper', and it blinds her.

Because he _is_ his father. It's just that he always thought of _Luke, _not Jimmy, in that particular role.

She can depend on him now.

He just wishes that sometimes, she could see that.

* * *

**Reviews are awesome!**


End file.
